


Wings and a Halo (Just Shapes and Beats)

by Grand_Anarchivist



Category: Just Shapes And Beats
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nonbinary Cyan (Just Shapes and Beats), Still Can't Tag, The Sun has p o w e r s headcanon, aka an AU i made up where cyan becomes a "fallen angel", fallen angel AU, make the ships lowkey jfc stop it with the unneeded romance, mostly just a note for myself, other heroes appear but mostly in the prologue, slow burn ig
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24518356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grand_Anarchivist/pseuds/Grand_Anarchivist
Summary: Cyan had their head held down. Observing what little they allowed themself to see, they noted how the grass underneath their feet was a pastel blue, much like the terrain around them.It wouldn't be for long."Sheltering Blixer, allowing him to infect the entirety of Paradise, and expecting to get away with it unharmed, huh?" Came the mocking tone of a fellow hero, a faceless green pentagon adorned with an ostentatious flower crown of different colors.Cyan refused to speak, refused to do so much as even glance towards the speaker. Their crimes were known, and they were going to receive the punishment they deserved.They were unaware of what was going to happen to them.(Note: Just Shapes and Beats belongs to Berzerk Studio, not me!!)
Relationships: Barracuda/Blixer (Just Shapes and Beats), Lycanthropy/Cubic (Just Shapes and Beats)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyan will receive the punishment for what they've done.  
> Unfortunately, their punishment is unique in nature, and what happens to them seems more like a hassle in their eyes.  
> Sucks to be them, I guess.

Cyan had their head held down. Observing what little they allowed themself to see, they noted how the grass underneath their feet was a pastel blue, much like the terrain around them. It was the nature of the pocket of a world inside the Trees of Life, a cluster of glowing triangles forming vague tree shapes; they were responsible for the heroes' title, each tree dedicated to a certain hero. For them, Cyan was inside the cyan Tree of Life, their own landscape shaped with towering trees amidst a wintry world.  
It wouldn't be theirs for long.  
"Sheltering Blixer, allowing him to infect the entirety of Paradise, and expecting to get away with it unharmed, huh?" Came the mocking tone of a fellow hero, a faceless green pentagon adorned with an ostentatious flower crown of different colors. Citrus was their name— they sat on a tree branch like a cat, swinging a leg back and forth as they stared down at their blue comrade.  
Cyan refused to speak, refused to do so much as even glance towards the speaker. Their crimes were known, demonstrated so clearly by Citrus, and they were going to receive the punishment they deserved.

They were unaware of what was going to happen to them.

A yellow triangle and an orange circle appeared next, each sitting on their own branch— notably in the same tree as Citrus. Gold and Clementine were uncharacteristically quiet, keeping their featureless faces cocked away as if they couldn't bear the sight of Cyan.  
_It feels stupid to be standing here, waiting for the Sun,_ Cyan thought bitterly. _You'd think that summoning the four of us with a gruff "haul your butts over to the Cyan part of the Tree of Life" would mean that he would arrive first, but nOOOO he's taking his precious time and—_

"Pick your head up, Cyan hero."

Cyan lifted their head up, repressing a shudder as a glowing figure seemed to materialize from out of nowhere. Adorned with spikes that reminded them vividly of Annihilate's menacing presence, the Sun seemed much more dangerous than he had usually portrayed himself as. Not as useless, not as prone to running off at the face of danger, such as a demon cat ripping the trees from the ground, consuming one for power, then corrupting the entire world.  
"Cyan, what you've done cannot be accepted. You had one job before— kill Blixer before he could further endanger the rest of Paradise with the Pink Corruption. What have you done? Allowed him to flee with a warning that had no effect on him, allowed him to cross the border from Cyan territories into Green, Orange, and Gold, and he has successfully infected the entriety of Paradise. The only reason your Cyan tree is still here is because I snapped back into reality, got myself together after having a breakdown, and _grew that tree in mere seconds with my power, with your entire world intact inside it._ " The Sun narrowed his eyes, prickly and unfriendly after the painful realization that running away to hide yourself wasn't the best approach.  
A poorly displayed wince made Cyan hunch their shoulders forward slightly, gripping their upper arms with their hands. Was it shameful to say that they really didn't see how the Sun could be so distressed? Gold, Clementine, and Citrus were trained in avoiding the projectiles corrupts were fond with throwing at them, and it should've been known that all four heroes played a part in trying to tear down Blixer's campaign.

A blur of golden yellow darted forward, seizing Cyan by the wrist with a hand veiled with clouds. The Sun narrowed his obsidian black eyes to stare at the hero's face, not minding the writhing Cyan did to escape the sudden heat that washed over their body. "I was a fool back then, a fool to allow you four to hunt down someone as simple as Blixer Fresh."  
His grip tightening on Cyan's body, they let out a cry as a sharp pain jolted up their arm and throughout their body. **Wings—** feathered wings, ranging from a medium grey to grey so dark it could pass as black, tore through their clothes and remained on their back. Before the startled hero was capable of acknowledging the fact that they now bore _two_ pairs of wings, a third pair sprouted from the sides of their head with less pain than before; these smaller wings, gleaming like onyx against their vibrant blue skin, soon hid their face to mimic blindness.

"What are you doing?" Cried Clementine, raising their head to stare at the Sun with bewilderment. Too late, their words came too late— Cyan had stumbled back, landing on the ground with a thud as their wings struggled to splay out to catch themselves. "You're hurting them, Sun! Look at them— you're punishing by turning them into an angel. What type of punishment is that?"  
"One to make them an outcast back in Paradise. The corrupts walking Paradise wouldn't hesitate turning in a juicy, unseen target like a fallen angel of Cyan's type," the Sun growled back, turning to the heroes. "Cyan is no longer a hero; they take damage the same way a shape would. They have a weapon to protect themselves the way their eyes cannot, but the most important thing is that they can be _corrupted_. If Cyan chooses to be bewitched by Blixer Fresh's crimes, they can turn themselves in and get corrupted— there will be no fourth hero for some time until someone is chosen." Disgust twisted his features as he glanced at the fumbling shape unfurling their wings and trying to pull away the ones covering their face.

Gold tilted their triangular head, visibly confused. "Um, Sun—" they stammered. "All of us had a role in taking down Blixer. Was it Cyan's failure to kill Blixer as Annihilate you're angered about?"  
The withering stare they received answered their question. They looked away from the star as he turned back to scrutinize Cyan's actions.  
"They were blinded by Blixer's lies, so the wings around their face will serve as physical blindness. Only when no eyes lay on them can the wings move away. No one will remember Cyan anymore— they're forgotten, with the new history claiming that Blixer had conquered Paradise without frills or fuss.

"Now, **_begone!_** _Don't dare come back, Cyan, until you're dragging along Blixer's dead body. You're not welcome as a hero until you revert the corruption the way you were supposed to before!_ "  
A roaring wind filled Cyan's head, the ground dropping out from beneath them. The wings flipping around in a panic around them did nothing to catch the airflow and bring them to safety as they fell through darkness.  
Out, out they went from the Cyan tree, finding themselves sprawled out on pink grass surrounded by pink water. The glowing blue light behind them turned grey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time--  
> I really have no idea where I'm going with this fic. It was supposed to be a small idea to be ignored, but sentence after sentence spilled out from my writer brain, and now I have a prologue.  
> So, long story short, I have no idea how this story will end up— this is my first official JSaB story, not just a bunch of oneshots in a trench coat!  
> If you can bear with my nasty writing schedule, it would be very kind of you <33
> 
> —Grand_Anarchivist


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyan encounters a familar and unfamiliar face. Unfortunately, both are bent on the idea of attacking them.  
> Afterwards, they create a new identity of their own, a beginning to a new life as a result of their feathered burdens.

Cyan had expected for a burning pain to rip across their body, pink clashing with their cool blue body until a part of their head broke off, taking a portion of their body— usually an arm or a leg— with it. The fact that they were no longer a hero made the bitter feeling of failure rise up inside them again, for even the slightest touch of pink would injure them. Slowly, Cyan shifted from laying on all fours to a kneeling position with the four wings on their back folded awkwardly, taking a moment to absorb what was left of Paradise.

Everything was some shade of pink, a color palette forced onto what used to be blue. Some organic matter, such as the triangular trees similar to what once had been the Cyan tree behind them, dripped with a pink liquid that crawled down to the edges of their leaves until it could fall to the grass beneath it. Even abiotic things such as rocks were stained pink, as if the corruption was capable of puncturing even the most lifeless of materials in the world.  
What startled the shape the most was the corrupted figures that trudged along, either gripping weapons that they could summon by will or flaunting off powers that were unique to them. Cyan hunched their back and shuffled backwards, curling their wings around them as they tried to avoid the corrupts' stares. They were incapable of blending in with the foliage around them, but maybe, just maybe they would avoid the stares of the controlled shapes and monsters around them by burying themselves in the pink leaves around them.

 _I need a plan,_ they thought. They slowly leaned forward as they surveyed the figures striding around, flinching as their palms touched pink soil. Slender fingers bumped into fabric, and Cyan glanced down to see their long-sleeved shirt and their jeans in shreds on the ground. What was supposed to be panic was replaced with serenity at the thought that they really had no reason to wear clothes, and that their favorite article of clothing, their scarf, was a neat pile on top of the pieces of shirt and pants lying on the pink grass. _I can't go airborne,_ Cyan thought to themselves, gripping the scarf for a brief moment. _I might as well assume something could hit me in the air, whether it be a foreign animal or a well-placed toss of weaponry. And if I stay on the ground any longer, I'll get corrupted. Even worse, I have no idea how to fly. I'd be struck down easily.  
The Sun was clever, in his own twisted way. Sending me down, knowing that I'll perish either way in the grand scheme of whatever the heck Blixer has going on, guarantees that I'll "atone" for my crimes somehow._  
The borderline black wings around Cyan's face, which had graciously allowed them to see by parting away ever so slightly, snapped back into place. Vision was replaced with glossy feathers, and Cyan had to stifle a scream. It was sudden, too sudden, for the alertness making their body tense up to just melt away.  
"W-What?"

They rose to their feet, their scarf coiled tidily around their neck as they swiveled their head back and forth uselessly. Nothing seemed to be moving in the foliage around them, yet the nature of the spell inflicted on them through the Sun's malevolent punishment insisted that a pair of eyes were studying their flailing form, waiting for the perfect time to pounce on an easy target.  
"Reveal yourself!" Cyan cried, more out of impulse than out of self-preservation. "I know you're here, so there's no use concealing yourself!"

What was supposed to be more angry bluffs contorted into a yelp of pain, escaping Cyan as something barreled into them from behind. Whatever— no, whoever it was, curled their fingers around whatever they could grasp, digging blunt nails into the flesh of their wings. Pain jolted through them, unlike the normal burn that had accompanied their agony as a hero when hit with the corruption they were so used to experiencing as a hero. It was sharp, sending waves of pain rippling through Cyan's body as they flared their wings in and out. Thankfully, that panic was the right thing to do for that singular second; their attacker fell back, the sound of shoes rustling the grass beneath them both.  
Adrenaline coursing through their body, they threw out their hands, only to flinch when a light swirled across their arms. A thin shape materialized within their grip, and within seconds a spear had appeared. Just barely registering the words the Sun had told them, about being able to defend themselves with their very own weapon now that they were no longer a powerless hero, Cyan whirled around to catch whoever had grabbed them with the blunt side of the spear.  
They were able to see a familiar shape and an unfamiliar monster as the eyes originally watching them lost focus, allowing the wings around their face to flare open. A loud "HEY!" in response to the familiar shape, a pink cube getting hit by their spear, emitted from the unfamiliar monster. Cyan didn't hesitate, spinning the spear in their hands once more to jab at the corrupted shape. The monster who had yelled backed away, dragging the cube along as he checked his comrade's upper arm. "Cubic, are you okay?" He breathed out, flicking one of two animalistic ears on his head as his obsidian black eyes scanned the gash that was torn into his ally's arm due to Cyan's spear. He clasped a hesitant paw over the injury, flinching away a now bloody paw as the shape whined from the smarting.  
"I'm fine—" hissed out Cubic as they shook slightly, only to rise to his feet and point at Cyan, who was turning around to flee. With bewilderment, Cyan noticed how their vision was once more swathed with feathers. "Lycanthropy, _we have to get that shape!_ "

Within seconds, Cyan was diving to the side to sprint away, wings folded and pressed tightly against their body. They were too big, catching too much air that only slowed them down and gave their pursuers an advantage in their hunt. The monster, Lycanthropy, was speedy on his feet as he hurled spiky projectiles to explode on the ground, scattering shrapnel. The shape who they had accidentally harmed was slightly slower than Lycanthropy, though he had a different technique— pincers had revealed themselves from Cubic's back, lunging forward to grab at Cyan's body. The blue shape yelped, trying to jump up to take off into the air. Two clumsy wings whooshed open, the shape struggling to throw themselves into the air. There seemed to be no shapes or monsters in the sky, as soon as they were out of range hopefully they could find safety there...  
Only for something to seize their ankle. A cry escaped them. Time seemed to slow as, with a pivot of Cubic's hand, Cyan was yanked to the ground.  
Their vision went dark. No sign of dim pink light threatening to stab into invisible eyeballs, seeping through the edges of the head wings to assault their eyes. Cool, silent darkness.  
\-----  
"We should bring you to the infirmary, Cubic. Whatever... That _thing_ did to you with their weapon, surely someone must be able to heal it. I heard that there's a frost monster named Snowdrift who can clean it up for you. She's in training, but she seems like a talented medic amongst us fighters. A little distant and strange, but you've seen worse." A soft giggle. "You've seen me."  
A deep breath, swallowed mostly by the sound of crackling fire and singing crickets. "Don't worry about me, Lycanthropy. I don't..." Pause. "I don't want to leave you. It's a miracle Blixer allowed us on a mission together, even more that we're bringing back something he would be interested to corrupt and control." Despite this, he laughed at the jab Lycanthropy made towards himself.  
"You shouldn't be, Cubic." The words were tinged with hurt and longing that were foreign to Cyan. "I thought it was just us being suitable for different ranks, but it's not. Blixer doesn't see you as loyal after... Everything that happened between you and him, so he's keeping you away from me, his 'role model' for all the corrupts he has under his paws, so that you don't influence me. I'm sorry, Cubic, but we can't always be together. I don't want him hurting you."  
A weak sniffle. "O-Oh look, Lycan. They're waking up."

Cyan shifted under the grass, the nighttime darkness not making their lack of vision any better. Slowly, slowly, they shifted from a lying-down position into a sitting position, crossing their legs despite the agony that made itself apparent. Their muscles spasmed with pain, eliciting a low groan.  
"Wh... Where am I?"  
A growl escaped the monster who had accompanied Cubic, but was quickly silenced. "You're further into the forest. We shouldn't be delaying giving you to King Blixer, but we did. Consider that merciful! That gash you gave me on my arm, thank you very much, hurts badly, and we assumed that we could take a break after such a catch. You're a very unique shape, you— none of our attacks are corrupting you. Yet."  
Cubic and Lycanthropy seemed to glance away after silence settled over the three, allowing Cyan to scrutinize them both. Compared to the lanky, wolf-like monster that was Lycanthropy, Cubic was short, rounded, and injured. The buzzsaw that hovered like an ominous halo above the shape's head, similarly to how the odd-looking halo hovered above Cyan's own, was merely a replacement to the glowing cat ears that had adorned Cube's head in the past, before Cyan had been summoned by the Sun.  
There was no denial. Between Cubic's weirdly coincidental alias taken on after corruption and the similarities between him and the shape Cyan was thinking about, the angel was sure this was corrupted Cube. They could recognize their friend from anywhere.  
The only problem was... Did Cubic remember them?

"Uhm." Cyan's wings concealed their featureless face once more as both corrupts turned to stare at them. "I don't.. Know either of your names... Do you mind if you guys tell me?" _What a lie, Cyan. You know who's who! Not just from now, but when I had... Accidentally attacked Cubic at an attempt to defend myself.  
Unless....  
They take it as a sign of submissiveness, rather than realizing I learnt more about them than they'd be comfortable. If they lessen their aggression towards me, maybe freedom could be closer than I think._

"My name is Lycanthropy," muttered the monster. "I'm a corrupted flower— do NOT ask why I look and sometimes act like a wolf." Their tone became much more light-hearted as they swatted at Cubic playfully, a small smile forming on both of their faces. "My comrade here, his name is Cubic. He's my childhood friend— and if you couldn't tell, he's a corrupted cube."  
Cyan nodded thoughtfully, peeking once more at them when their attentions pivoted somewhere else. While Lycanthropy looked distant, Cubic looked vaguely upset. _Lycanthropy is so much more to Cubic than just a friend,_ whispered their mind as they pieced together the brief conversation they caught between the two corrupts as consciousness returned to them.  
Unwilling to get yanked into what most likely was a world of mutual pining for each other, their wish to be together torn in two by most likely Blixer (as indirectly stated by both Lycanthropy and Cubic), Cyan decided to leave their thoughts at that.

"What's your name?"  
Cyan didn't dare look up, once more blinded. The wings were becoming a hassle, as if the Sun was mocking the blindness the ex-hero had towards Blixer as a result of infatuation. Pushing the thought of simply slicing off the wings from their head in exchange for unspeakable agony, Cyan instead tried to reply, "my name's C—"  
Their own voice cut out. Their mind trailed backwards towards hours back, thinking about the entire scene the Sun had caused by turning Cyan into a fallen angel of sorts. Was his point of turning Cyan into something completely new to forge a new identity for the shape? If so, it could explain the change in appearance— maybe the Sun wanted the entire idea of Cyan existing to be stomped into the ground.  
They didn't want to be called Cyan if even the mere mention of their name reminded them of the Sun. He used to be kind, if not a bit cowardly, yet their last encounter of the star brought nothing but unwanted change. Cyan felt... Violated, almost, at the thought of being banished. Violated at the thought of their title of hero revoked against their will.  
A synonym of angel had bubbled up, presented to Cyan mentally. After turning over the word for a few moments, they thought quietly that perhaps it could be the best pseudonym for them to use. No connection to their old life, as the Sun was insistent on via turning them into this weird angel.  
They reached up to pull off their blue scarf, despite the pained shake that wracked their arm. They unwrapped it from their form, placing it on the ground.  
Maybe they could numb the pain by forging a completely new identity, taking reign of their own life as they figured out how to take down Blixer. Maybe then, they could take up the name Cyan again, without seeing a wrathful Sun cursing them with wings and a halo.

"Seraph.  
"My name is Seraph."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s,,,so  
> cameo of my oc snowdrift but you don't have to worry she's not as important as i'm hoping  
> i'll try to keep me shipping lycan and cubic on the down low i'm so sorry if you don't like them together  
> but canonically blixer and cube/cubic hate each other so if you were looking forward to that pairing i'm sorry :flushed:  
> hopefully this chapter flows better than i thought


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lycanthropy and Cubic head to the factory with Seraph.  
> Blixer takes advantage of the first uncorrupted shape he had seen in a while, a new asset soon to add to his expanding empire.

A boot had nudged their side, waking them up. Seraph let out a sigh, waking up to feathers clouding their vision with the first rays of dim sunshine threatening to bleed through dark wings. The feeling of the course grass embracing any inch of their body it could touch was strange, with Seraph more used to not sleeping as a Hero.  
"Come on," Cubic insisted. "We have to get going. The factory is closeby— Lycanthropy has to return to his station at the volcano, and I... Well, I don't know."  
 _That sounded foreboding._ Seraph sat up, shivering as their body lit up with pain. Turns out that Cubic slamming them into pastel pink earth was decidedly not good— what little pain the adrenaline they experienced could nullify had faded away, leaving weakness and dull aches thrumming through their body.  
Another pair of shoes landed closely to them, forcing Seraph's head wings to snap shut again. "Cubic's right. He's also _injured_ , and there's a healer who could fix him up." Lycanthropy lashed his tail back and forth, almost unwilling to offer any other meaningful words.

A groan escaped from Seraph. "Fine," they whined, rising to their feet. They flared their wings open to stretch them out, only to quickly scrunch them close to the sides of their body once more. "Let's go then."  
An impatient "tch" escaped from Lycanthropy, whirling around on his heels to sprint towards the factory as a head start. That left Cubic and Seraph alone for the most part, free to follow the lupine monster but not forced to keep up his almost unnatural pace.  
"I wonder why he's upset," Seraph muttered. They turned to Cubic, forcing themselves to look up to stare at the unfocused expression on Cubic's face. Oddly enough, his attention seemed to be somewhere else; the wings that had made their day suddenly be composed primarily of darkness parted away like jet curtains, allowing Cyan to see light once more. "Did anything happen?"  
"He doesn't want to go back to the volcano. Blixer sends him there because he's the only one who can withstand the blistering heat, other than Barracuda— but Blixer won't let Barracuda leave his sight." Cubic turned back once more to Seraph, taking a deep breath. "Come on, we don't have time to waste." A single arm of pincers emerged from out of nowhere, darting forward to seize Seraph's wrist. Cubic dug his heels into the ground, and within seconds they too were running in the direction of the factory, with Cubic's focus staying steadily away from Seraph and Seraph being dragged like a doll.  
\-----  
"We're here."

Lycanthropy had slowed down a few feet before the factory's entrance, the very tower that Blixer had created from a corrupted piece of the Tree of Life. His voice was clear, with random corrupted shapes and flowers turning their heads to listen in on the voice of the speaking monster... Or to stare at Seraph, wondering eyes tearing into their body when nothing— apart from Cubic's pincer, which gripped their wrist tightly— touched them physically.  
"The tower is basically a long elevator digging into the dirt, one that transports you to the first floor of the factory. It is the main floor— you can go wherever you like, but for you, my cyan little friend, you're going straight to Blixer." Lycanthropy's mouth twitched up into a grim smile, tapping Cubic to make sure he released the uncorrupted shape, then shoving them into the elevator. He led himself and Cubic into the relatively roomy elevator, pressing an unmarked button.  
Rather than going down for a little bit of time, as Seraph had assumed, the three of them seemed to stay in the elevator for hours. The elevator didn't seem to accelerate in speed, but the shiver in their wings told them that they were going far too fast for comforts.

 _I'm going to meet Blixer._ Seraph's wings slowly wrapped around themselves, much to the confusion of Cubic and Lycanthropy.  
 _I'm going to meet him.  
The very person who I have to stop, so I can regain my title as the Cyan Hero of Paradise.  
Why am I so scared? I have a weapon— he doesn't seem to be as dangerous as before. What can he do to hurt me?_

A hand reached forward to attempt to still the shake that was in Seraph's wings. The touch of someone corrupted hurt so much, their heart rate quickening at the fact that being corrupted may come very soon if they weren't vigilant enough, but they leaned into the touch. It was too much to take on these thoughts right now— they had to brainstorm what to do, to turn Paradise back into the utopia it used to be.  
"Calm down," Cubic breathed soothingly. "The ride is not that bad. We're almost at the right floor." He casted a wary look towards Lycanthropy, unspoken words being communicated through the small period of eye contact they held.  
 _If only he knew,_ Seraph thought to themselves. They pressed a palm against their heart, the speed at which it beat terrifying them in the process. _What I have to do to free them all from their corruption. A life to sacrifice for everyone else._

The elevator's doors slid open. The room was barren and dimly lit, save for the bright pink light that was emitted from the throne ahead of them. Pink water flowed in pipes that were wired intricately in the room, cycling throughout the entirety of the factory— at least, that's what Seraph assumed.  
Sitting on the throne was a tall monster. The blue shape flinched back at the realization— the last time he met Blixer, before he stabbed himself with a Triangle of Life and reduced himself into a spike-studded, agonized heap of melting goo, he was tall— but shorter than Barracuda. Now, Seraph could safely say that that height in the past was just not enough to satisfy the pink commander. He was significantly bigger than everyone they had known, the wire-thin Devil tail draped over his legs flicking back and forth.

"Step forward," Blixer announced with a small smile. Spotting how both Lycanthropy and Cubic walked to him with Seraph between them, the Boss shook his head and amended his words. "I'm sorry, my faithful corrupts. I meant them. The winged square." He pointed to Seraph, before turning to the other two. "Lycanthropy, you may head to your station in the volcano. Cubic..." A silence settled over him as he studied the injured cube. "Head over to the infirmary. The injury will only hold you back, and we're only as strong as our weakest link."   
A smile spread across his face as he added, "once Snowdrift fixes you up, you will head to your dorm in the Sabrepulse Group and pack whatever you need to travel. From there, I'm sending you over to the once Green part of Paradise, to a town called Evergreen." A soft sneer escaped Blixer. "The corrupts of Evergreen that _are_ connected to the Hivemind have reported to me that there are rumors of an uncorrupted... Shape? Monster?? One who seems to be armed to the teeth with blades of all sorts. She is to be captured and corrupted, another pawn added to our army."

There was definite hurt on Cubic's face. Seraph looked away, threading their fingers together out of nervousness as Lycanthropy and Cubic both reluctantly bowed to Blixer, heading back towards the elevator. What hurt the shape the most was the distance they forced between each other, reluctant to comfort each other in the presence of their leader.  
 _Wait.  
Hivemind?_  
Blixer had uncoiled himself from the comforts of his throne, slithering down the throne with a maniacal smile that only expanded the closer he had approached the unknowing fallen angel.   
Before Seraph could see the elevator doors close on the two distant corrupts, before they could whirl around and demand to Blixer what he had meant by hivemind, Blixer's paws touched both sides of Seraph's thin face. He jerked his wrists abruptly, forcing the square angel to turn their winged face to him.

"What a unique specimen," Blixer cooed out, his words bringing a fearful tremble to Seraph. They reached up to try and pry off Blixer's paws from their face, but was only met with painful failure— the pain they had felt by being touched with the corruption was different between normal corrupted shapes and monsters like Lycanthropy and Cubic. Now, with Blixer, Seraph had thought that they could collapse from the pain; it felt like they had been literally set aflame, though the agony was localized at their face (and hands, when they attempted to rip away the Boss's paws).  
Spontaneously, Blixer's face twisted into one of rage, shoving Seraph away. He exposed one of the joints on his arms, flexed one of the digits on his paws to reveal a pink claw...  
And slashed his arm with it.  
Pink blood dripped from the wound, sliding down the spiked sphere that had composed one of Blixer's arms, only to splatter the glassy ground as he stepped towards Seraph; he watched their struggling form with sardonic eyes as they slowly rose to their feet, hollow threats leaving them with the intent to try and intimidate their adversary. There was no hiding the shiver that wracked the angel's frame, no hiding the fact that the visible sign of fear brought unadulterated joy to Blixer. He reached forward, the blood-stained claw touching the center of Seraph's forehead by the time they tipped their square head up to attempt to meet eye contact with him through winged blindness.  
 **"Do you ever wish to know how I started the corruption?"**

And within moments, Seraph's vision darkened once more. They tried to scream, tried to force themselves to summon their spear to stab him in the chest and end it once and for all, but their words were swapped out for silence. Their world tipped sideways once more, darkness flooding their vision as their body met with the ground for the second time since becoming an angel.  
And as they slipped into unconsciousness, corruption taking control of their body with force Seraph hadn't even expected, all they could do is curse themselves for letting Blixer do this to them. This was the closest they could get to him, and all they had done was fail anyone who was stupid enough to put their trust on them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna yeet in a few original characters that either i made or someone else made that asked to have their character be included in the fic.  
> to be honest, the latter wasn't supposed to happen, but it miraculously did  
> i unfortunately won't include any other ocs that i didn't make in the book to ensure that i don't add too much characters only to not use them :)


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seraph wakes up in the infirmary and talks to Blixer's sister, Snowdrift.  
> They also meet Barracuda.

Seraph woke up to a frigid room, their breaths coming out in pale pink, crystalline clouds. The room itself was relatively large, though neat rows and columns of beds reserved solely for the purpose of making injured patients who arrived to the room made everything look full. There were patients in beds, most of them lying down but some of them sitting up. _The infirmary,_ Seraph realized. _I wonder who brought me here._ They took a moment to slowly sit up against the cushion provided at the back of their very own infirmary bed, taking in the sight of the injured corrupts around them quietly.  
_It seems to be that, even if Blixer's army is_ massive from the amount of shapes, monsters, and flowers that he had corrupted with his strategies, there's something going on that's requiring him to send out these troops. Seraph placed a hand gently on where their stomach was supposed to be (due to the fact that, as an ex-hero, things like eating food wasn't required to sustain their form), faintly sick at the thought that these shapes and monsters were being sent through literal Hell to fight for a cause they were forced to comply to.

Once Seraph's mind stopped bombarding them with images and sickened thoughts about what Blixer was forcing his army to fight through, their mind flashed back to what had happened before they slipped back once more into unconsciousness. They had heard that Lycanthropy was to head back to the volcano, heard that Cubic had to report to a post in a totally new area of Paradise to capture an uncorrupted foe, watched as Blixer slashed open his own arm to anoint someone who managed to evade his usual methods of corrupting a shape, flower, or monster.  
The last thought caused them to glance down at their arms, flinching back at what they saw— the limbs, along with the rest of their body, were a deep shade of magenta, almost crimson in color to their untrained eyes. A quiet sob escaped Seraph. They wished that what Blixer had done to them was merely a dream, that they could wake up and find themselves back in the utopian world that Paradise was supposed to be, living amongst their friends, free from the winged curse the Sun had inflicted on them. No weapons, no wings, no _halo_ , no nothing. Just a small cyan square bestowed the title of hero, protecting their rightful portion of Paradise to ensure nothing happened to their people.  
The other thing that stood out on their body was the gauze coiling their limbs and torso, tinged with blood. New pain ignited their body as Seraph forced themselves to sit up completely rather than at a discomforting angle, assuming grumpily that Blixer must've done more than just corrupt them hard enough to slip into unconsciousness.  
They casted yet another glance around the infirmary (for nobody's eyes had landed on them.. Yet), and realized two things.  
One— Cubic was not anywhere in sight, even when curtains swathed the beds that contained patients with the most brutal of injuries.  
Two— the only monster who wasn't bonded with casts and bandages was a small pastel pink monster, curving horns sprouted from her head and colored black save for the very edges, like the majority of her round face; the small spikes adorning the sides of her face hovered oddly, as if magic was holding them in place. When she turned around to meet brief eye contact with Seraph, they felt the wings clasping their face snap back in place. Snowdrift turned to the assisting shape working alongside her busily, a small pink cube similar in appearance to Cubic (save for the tuft of hair on this new cube's head and the headphones he wore), speaking to him for a few moments before turning her attention once more to an unsuspecting Seraph.

 _That must be Snowdrift,_ they thought to themselves. _The medic Lycanthropy and Blixer talked about. I can't believe she's doing all of this by herself._ The only when sound of heels hitting the ground filled the otherwise quiet infirmary as she made her way close to them did the angel realize she was approaching, studying them with blank eyes that held a strange gleam. As she closed the distance between herself and Seraph, she slowed her pace briefly to flip to a piece of paper bound to her clipboard.  
"Seraph," Snowdrift said quietly, as if she was testing to see how the unique name would feel on her tongue. "Hm. It's almost a miracle that unconsciousness decided to release their iron grip on your injured body. What my brother done to you was... Unprecedented. Pent-up anger released through physical harm inflicted on your fragile, glassy body." She lurked a bit closer, despite keeping her distance from Seraph. "What _are_ you?" Her words were unconsciously clipped and as cold as the frost she was able to control, scrutinizing the ex-hero with diamond-shaped pupils.

Seraph felt the words they had to say dry up on a metaphorical tongue, squaring their shoulders. For once, they were glad that plumage blocked their face— even without being able to see a majority of Snowdrift's face, the corrupt thought that she was gathering information about them. Too much to feel safe. Terror gripped at their heart, and they could whisper only a quiet answer.  
**"I'm an ex-hero, banished by the Sun."** Seraph's fingers dug into their forearm as they spoke a little more. "I let Blixer live, and was punished by becoming a corruptable outcast that could easily fall into his paws."  
A few moments passed, the airy words dissolving once they left them. Seraph was able to pull their head wings away ever so slightly, casting a wary glance at Snowdrift. She had sunken into deep thought, her intense gaze torn away from the unique corrupt.  
"S-Snowdrift?" Seraph stammered, trying to break the heavy silence that settled over the both of them.

Snowdrift shifted her shoes ever so slightly, a quiet shuffling noise against the metallic ground. "I must step away for a bit. Seraph, your injuries will heal quickly due your... Old status. Stay here for a few more hours, then you're able to leave. Your presence clogs up precious space reserved for _actually_ injured corrupts. It is nice speaking to you, but I'm afraid that I can't be around you much longer."  
Again, with the rudely abrupt tone and slightly impatient way of speaking. Snowdrift hurried away, a wiry tail lashing behind her as she scurried away to care for her patients alongside her cubed assistant.  
Seraph scrunched their wings against themselves once Seraph's eyes were turned away, allowing them to glance around the room again. It was foolish to confess they were an ex-hero to a corrupt of all things. They weren't entirely sure it was a secret Snowdrift was willing to keep— after all, they were basically an outcast, as the Sun's spell ensured. Black, feathery wings that embraced them and made them look... Different. How they were so easily caught by Lycanthropy and Cubic a day or two ago.  
This was what they deserved. To be further marginalized for a spell that the Sun himself had cursed Seraph with, it was everything they deserved. They were no hero— and now, they had to suffer, with the heavy thought of how they should've never spared a heartless Blixer clouding their mind.  
\-----  
Snowdrift had indeed told everyone she had encountered about Seraph's old rank, secrets being a foreign concept to her; corrupts were all connected under Blixer's rule, meaning that she had assumed that everything she knew was shared with everyone around her (though Seraph wondered why she thought that, when they themselves were a corrupt yet got a strange reaction when speaking of their old title to her).  
However, it didn't cause an effect that they had been intending. They expected throngs of corrupts with loyalties to Blixer too strong to break, exiling them for being the very hero in charge of breaking the corrupted grip that Blixer had on them; they expected to be forcefully granted a confrontation to the Boss that could result in death. Instead, Seraph was greeted with confused murmurs about why they had three pairs of wings and an ominous halo, and curious questions about what a hero was in the first place.  
Not to mention being accidentally granted an audience with Barracuda himself in a hallway Seraph was having trouble navigating, the only monster that was second in command to Blixer, though it came a few days after they had told Snowdrift of their old status.

Seraph had been wandering around the factory, familiarizing themselves with a location they were forced to live in— they might as well, before they find themselves in off-limit zones. It turned out that the factory was strangely... Hospitable, for whoever decided to live there. While several floors seemed to dig into the earth of Paradise, further destroying it from the inside through manmade creations that put a strain on Paradise's fragile ecosystems, Seraph was surprised to notice how it wasn't as.. Grandiose and ostentatious as they expected.  
Most of the corrupts flocked to the factory to either gather orders from messengers of Blixer, OR to heal up injuries too gruesome for local medics to handle, thus requiring the shockingly skilled hands of Snowdrift to patch up to the best of her extents.  
While some chose to live in the factory, believing that choosing to stay close to Blixer or Barracuda increased their chances of being exalted to a more powerful rank, most chose to stay away, building outposts in all four territories of Paradise to live in and defend.  
To be fair, Seraph couldn't blame them— the factory was dreary and dark, with the most light coming from the transparent pipes that transported vibrant pink water that was meant to somehow strengthen the virus Blixer and Barracuda had created together, a concept that eluded Seraph.

Another thing that confused them was why everyone seemed to act like being an ex-hero meant nothing. Time and time again, Seraph thought about the Sun's intentions by turning them into a fallen angel, focusing on whatever knowledge they knew out of distress that their questions couldn't be answered. Shouldn't every shape and monster know what a hero was, the very shapes that protected the (previously) cyan, yellow, orange, and green Trees of Life?  
A small theory had started to form, one that made Seraph even more upset than they already were about choosing to spare Blixer— they theorized that the Sun had taken a step further, casting a second spell along with the physical one that changed Seraph from a small, weak hero based on speed to a slightly powerful yet borderline blind angel, cursed with plumage that resulted in wary glances and isolation and blessed with a weapon that a normal corrupt would use to get out of the factory, but Seraph chose not to use in fear of harming innocents.  
The second spell was most likely meant to remove any knowledge of Cyan, the history of how a square hero was turned into a fallen angel never befalling the ears of anybody walking Paradise— no one would know Cyan ever existed, a plot hole in Paradise's history amended with the lie that Blixer had taken over without any heroes trying to stop him.

Being this deep in thought meant that Seraph's already weak awareness of what was going on around them was further diminished. Their footsteps had lead them to a random hallway where they were able to sleep in a dorm of their own with corrupts that were basically misfits captured by corruption, but the lack of perception for the outside world lead to Seraph accidentally colliding with someone. A flare of pain from their ribs and arm, pain that was _supposed_ to subside after their injuries naturally stitched themselves shut, caused a cry to escape them, flinching back as the smaller pair of wings attached to their back shielded their frame.  
The other corrupt Seraph bumped into let out an almost imperceptible noise that was far too quiet for them to hear, turning a pyramidal head to cast a genuinely confused glance at Seraph with a single eye.  
"Are you alright?" Spoke the other corrupt. Though he kept a distance from Seraph, he turned the rest of his body to face the corrupted angel. "What was quite a collision with me. Do you know where you're doing?"  
"Nope," Seraph stated unconsciously, placing a hand on the side and back their neck as if pain was causing them to rub at it. "Definitely not. I'm supposed to be heading to a dorm room with..." They wracked their head for the names a random flower in charge of dorm placements told them. "Static... I think someone named Ryōshi? And.. Granite."  
The significantly taller monster's single eye curved up in a teasing crescent shape. "Two assassins and a small child with terrifying amounts of power. How interesting— Static is a strange TV-headed monster who may or may not be related to the also TV-head monster responsible for the level HYPE. Ryōshi is a hexagonal shape with amazing skill with the two katanas they use and horns that are lethal should they choose to head butt you, and Granite... Is a small little child you should be careful around. She's unbelievably powerful, being able to control so many things at once in the training room when she begs to go there.  
"However, she's unstable; she uses too many projectiles that can injure bystanders, and often herself in the process. She exerts herself too much to the point that Snowdrift has to check her constantly to make sure she bares no injuries from her own attacks, and Blixer and I are afraid to even let her step foot in a battlefield when she hits an age like... 18."

 _Hold up...  
Blixer and I?!_  
Barely any shapes or monsters dared to include their own name in the same sentence as Blixer, the difference in power between a king and his cohorts too great to simply break. Suspicion built up in Seraph's chest, and once the monster in front of them glanced somewhere else while he awaited an answer from Seraph, they were able to realize with a sinking feeling who they were speaking to with a single glance.  
Barracuda. A pyramidal monster who lead alongside Blixer, the brains in their two-man campaign. While it was merely a theory that shapes and monsters snickered about, that the relationship between both Bosses were more than just professional, it was borderline impossible to simply normalize the important figure in front of them long enough to let their heart return to a normal rhythm. Seraph exhaled quietly, finally mustering up the courage to speak to Barracuda. They pressed a hand against an aching rib, hiding their face once more by will before the monster can glance back at them.

"A-Alright, I'll remember that, Barracuda. I guess I have an interesting few corrupts to talk to... It's been nice meeting you here."  
Nervousness took over Seraph once more, hunching their shoulders in ever so slightly and creating distance between them and the other corrupt by taking a few steps back as a single eye scrutinized their form.  
"Nice to meet you too, Seraph. I will await your input on the battlefield." Barracuda turned away at long last (but not before narrowing his eye as if something thought-provoking flitted through his mind, tearing his attention away from Seraph as he figured out something that no one else knew), high heels clicking against the floor as he walked away to his intended destination. That left Seraph alone, with no one to talk to, and no one to look at them. They made a break their dorm, hurrying into their room; the corrupt blurred in while confused eyes turned to them as they occupied the only open bed in the room with an unintended flourish of their wings. Seraph was NOT planning on moving. Not right now, not while the concentrated look that Barracuda still lingered at the back of their mind.  
Even if the wings around their head were gracious enough to allow them to move, Seraph still hid their face— an interaction like that, even if Barracuda was simply stating an almost concerning amount of information about their new roommates, struck fear into their heart. Even if Barracuda was much, MUCH more hospitable in nature combined to the Boss that had even him in metaphorical chains, there was subtext to his behavior, an underlying meaning that terrified Seraph.  
Barracuda was expecting only the best out of Seraph, and even if he suspected that Seraph was an ex-hero, an old title meant nothing to the pyramidal boss. Seraph was as low in status as the corrupts around him, and was going to be treated neither better nor worse. Not on Barracuda's watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe so uh  
> uhm  
> i have a few ocs in here and though i said snowdrift wasn't supposed to be important she might end up being so im sorry i tried
> 
> snowdrift is blixer's twin sister, if you ship those two together i'll stomp you. also she's sort of based off of whiteout by wings of fire lol  
> static is a tv-head oc that basically is a shapesona of sorts  
> ryōshi is a hexagon with horns and is based off of katana blaster by big giant circles  
> granite is a strange monster/shape whose head is made up of bunches of circles that are the same design as the explosive, slightly circular projectiles present in granite by shirobon
> 
> both katana blaster and granite are levels in the game :)


End file.
